I know,' she says, 'poor Jennie'd be the livin' last to
want to take it off'n the poor girl.'

"'An',' s'I, 'even if I should give her somethin' else to put on in the
mornin', an' sly this into the coffin on Jennie, I donno's I'd want to.
The shroud,' s'I, ''s been wore.'

"Mis' Holcomb sort o' kippered--some like a shiver.

"'I donno what it is about its bein' wore first,' s'she, 'but I guess it
ain't so much what it is as what it ain't. Or sim'lar.'

"An' I knew what she meant. I've noticed that, often.

"In the end we done what I'd favoured from the beginnin': We ask' Mis'
Crapwell if we couldn't bury Jennie in her white mull.

"'A _shroud_,' says Mis' Crapwell, grievin', 'made by a dressmaker with
buttons?'

"'It's the part o' Jennie that wore it before that'll wear it now,' I
says, reasonable, 'an' her soul never was buttoned into it anyways. An'
it won't be now.'

"An' after a while we made her see it, an' that was the first regular
dress ever wore to a buryin' in Friendship, by the one that was the one.

"I'll never forget when 'Leven come out o' that room, after she'd got
through. We all went in--Mis' Crapwell an' Mis' Toplady an' Mis' Holcomb
an' I, an' some more. An' I took 'Leven back in with me. An' as soon as
I see Jennie I see it was Jennie come back--hair just as natural as if
it was church Sunday mornin' an' her in her pew. We all knew it was so,
an' we all said so, an' Mis' Crapwell, she just out cryin' like she'd
broke her heart. An' when the first of it was over, she went acrost to
'Leven, an' 'Oh,' s'she, 'you've give her back to me. You give her back.
God bless you!' she says to her. An' when I looked at 'Leven, I see the
'Huh?' look wasn't there at all. But they was a little somethin' on her
face like she was proud, an' didn't quite want to show it--along of her
features or complexion or somethin' never havin' had it spread on 'em
before.

"Nex' mornin' o' course 'Leven put on the shroud again. I must say it
give me the creeps to see her wearin' it, even if it did look like
everybody's dresses. I donno what it is about such things, but they make
somethin' scrunch inside o' you. Like when they got a new babtismal dish
for the church, an' the minister's sister took the old one for a cake
dish.

"S'I, to 'Leven, after breakfast:--

"We're goin' to line Jennie's grave this mornin'. I guess you'd like to
go with us, wouldn't you?'

But I see her face with the old look, like the back o' s